


Better run for the hills before they burn

by maryangel



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-25
Updated: 2010-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryangel/pseuds/maryangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had been running for days, only stopping to catch a couple hours of sleep when the sun was high in the sky, when they managed to find a safe place to rest, away from the main roads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better run for the hills before they burn

**Author's Note:**

> Apocalypse AU. Written for Porn Battle X for the prompts: Running, apocalypse.

They had been running for days, only stopping to catch a couple hours of sleep when the sun was high in the sky, when they managed to find a safe place to rest, away from the main roads.

Frank was still asleep. He was stirring, his eyelids trembling.

Ray had nightmares. He had them every night; rains of fire, disincarnate voices screaming, people burning alive in their houses. Ray could see their faces at night. As soon as he closed his eyes, he could see them.

Frank's nightmares were probably worse. He was a survivor, had seen everything first hand, had seen his family die. His mom, his dad, his girlfriend, everyone was gone.

Frank mumbled in his sleep and kicked his feet, tearing the bottom of the sleeping bag.

They had to find another one soon. The days were getting colder and the nights; the nights were so cold they would probably freeze to death if they ever stopped walking.

Ray had found the run down farmhouse on one of his trips into the forest. He liked to get a lay of the land before stopping to rest. He liked to know of every possible escape route, if there was anything edible, plants, berries, and even game even if he wasn't great with snares.

The food was scarce. Ray couldn't remember the last time he wasn't hungry. His jeans didn't fit him anymore. They hung low on his hips, tied with a bit of blue string he had saved from the wreckage of a house, a few days ago.

The meat was always for him. Frank couldn't stand the sight of meat. He said it reminded him of his dog, Peppers; how she would catch tiny animals, birds, insects, and eat them in front of Frank.

Frank who was famished. Frank and his delicate stomach which couldn't digest meat; something about the proteins not being assimilated. It was a bit confusing for Ray.

Frank's dog wasn't around anymore. Some guy had snatched it one night or maybe it just ran away. Maybe it was for the best. Although, Ray was still above eating his friend's pets.

The farm had probably been abandoned for years, maybe decades before the world ended, before the sky caught fire one night.

There was no sign anyone had lived there, no trash, no rotting food on the table, and the layer of dust covering everything was too thick, undisturbed.

They had set up camp in what used to be the kitchen, digging a small hole in the floorboards to make a fire.

It wasn't safe to light a fire but it was the middle of day and hopefully, no one would be able to see it from afar and no one would find them. Ray had managed to catch himself a rodent (it was smaller than a rat but bigger than a mouse. Ray wasn't really sure what it was) in one of his snares and there was no way he would eat it raw.

When Frank finally opened his eyes, blinking into the harsh light of day, he stared at Ray but didn't say a word.

They had to leave soon. They still had a long way to go until they reached the coast.

Ray dug the last one of their packs of cigarettes (fucking menthols, Ray hated them) out of his jacket pocket and lit it with the tip of a branch, lifting it off the dying campfire.

He took a deep drag, letting the smoke burn his lungs before handing the cigarette to Frank.

Maybe they'd die of malnourishment or dehydration before they were killed by one of those road patrols. It would be better. It wouldn't be as horrifying, as painful as what the road patrols did to the few survivors it managed to encounter.

Ray had been traveling on his own at the beginning, before he even left New Jersey, before he ran into Frank just outside of Philadelphia in a gas station. He wasn't as careful at the beginning, before he witnessed the brutal slaughtering of a family of four on the freeway by these road patrols.

Frank coughed. He'd been a little sick. Nothing as bad as last month when Ray thought he was a goner. Still, Ray didn't like the sound he made, his breath short, a whistling that shouldn't have been there.

Ray sat up and grabbed the bowl of wild berries he had picked this morning. He took a couple and shoved them in his mouth.

The tart taste tickled his tongue. He grimaced and passed the bowl to Frank. Two berries was Ray's ration. He didn't need more. He had an unidentified rodent for lunch and could spare the rest of the berries for Frank. That's all Frank ate anyway.

Ray was thin, his belly flat. He looked bad but Frank looked famished. His cheeks were a little too hollow now. Just as hollow as his eyes, their hazel pale, faded. Ray could see his bones, count Frank's ribs, the way they protruded underneath his t-shirt.

Frank tossed a handful of berries in his mouth and nodded. He wasn't talking much lately. Not since they had found the bodies tied to poles in a parking lot.

Ray didn't mind the silence. There wasn't anything to talk about anyway. Nothing pleasant about the present or the future. The past gave them a short fleeting joy that felt a sour taste in Ray's mouth, a little like the berries. It left a lump in his throat.

Frank kicked the sleeping bag down and levered himself up on his elbows. He gave Ray a look that was unreadable. His eyes were red and puffy from too much crying, from the smoke too.

The smoke never cleared away.

Their meager dinner consumed, Ray got up and packed their things. They didn't carry much, just enough to survive one more day. It was better this way. They needed to be prepared to get up and leave any moment.

Ray was about to roll their sleeping bag in a heap when Frank caught his wrist, his fingers cold but soft.

He didn't say anything, just pulled Ray closer, pushed him onto the sleeping bag and held onto him tight.

"What are you doing?" Ray asked, his heart racing. His voice was broken. He didn't use it much these days.

Something flickered in Frank's eyes, their hazel green suddenly bright again, alive. He didn't answer with words.

One moment, Ray was sat on the sleeping bag with Frank hands around his wrists and the next, Frank was kissing him, desperate, eager. It was sloppy and there was tongue and teeth colliding. Frank let out a faint moan and squeezed on Ray's wrists tighter, so tight that Ray could feel Frank's fingernails dig little crescents into the skin of his forearms

It took Ray a minute or two before he made sense of what was happening. They didn't have time for this. They didn't have time to make things more complicated.

He broke the kiss and pulled away, away from Frank's mouth, away from his fingers. "We have to finish packing," he said, patting Frank's elbow.

Ray got to his feet and walked away. He could go pick more berries for later while Frank packed the rest of their things, while he regained some control.

He didn't even heard Frank scramble back to his feet and didn't see him until he was already on him, pushing him against the old kitchen table and its ten layers of dust.

Frank was stronger than he appeared.

Ray tried to say that they had to get a move on, that the sun was almost down and that this place probably wasn't safe at night but Frank latched onto his wrists again, nuzzled at Ray's neck, and started humming.

"I need this," he whispered and these were the first words to come out of his mouth in two weeks.

He let go of one of Ray's wrists and his hand started fumbling with the string around Ray's waist, untying it and pulling it out of the loops around Ray's oversized jeans.

Ray didn't try to push Frank away. Maybe he needed this too. He wrapped his arms around Frank and pulled him in for a kiss.

The edge of the table dug into the back of his thighs and Ray shifted a bit. He sat up on the table and pulled Frank between his legs.

Frank groaned and slipped a hand past the waistband of Ray's jeans, his fingers soft, warm, closing around Ray's cock. He groaned again, maybe out of frustration and struggled to pop the buttons of Ray's fly open.

He dived back in for Ray's cock immediately and started kissing him again, his fist pumping and tugging and squeezing just right.

Ray had been jerking off on a semi regular basis, when they had a safe shelter and when he was sure Frank was fast asleep. It had been a while since someone else touched his cock. Months maybe.

"I need your cock," Frank mumbled before leaning between Ray's thighs.

Ray watched him as Frank sunk to his knees, pulling Ray's jeans down until they pooled around his feet.

Frank's mouth was— it was incredible.

Ray's cock slid into it easily (not all the way in because Ray was big, and chocking Frank wasn't part of the plan) and Frank's lips stretched around it. He looked up at Ray, his cheeks hollowed, and moaned.

Ray shut his eyes and tilted his head back, one of his hands running through Frank's hair and the other clasped around Frank's shoulder. He tried not to move, not to push forward, not to be too impatient, and Frank was so good at this, he was so amazing.

Ray's stomach swooped when Frank pulled out with a wet noise, a string of saliva linking Frank's lips and the tip of Ray's cock for a second.

Frank wiped his mouth and the drool off his chin with the back of his hand and stood up. He kissed Ray again, his lips smearing over the corner of Ray's mouth, over his cheek, over the underside of his jaw. He let out a deep sigh and his hot breath brushed against Ray's throat, making him shiver with longing.

Then Frank started rubbing himself over Ray's thigh and Ray could feel how hard Frank was in his pants.

"I want you to touch me," Frank pleaded as he grabbed Ray's hand and shoved it inside his pants without any other form of warning.

Ray wanted to touch Frank. He wanted this more than anything right now, more than safety, more than food or water, more than a full night's sleep and more than life itself.

When Ray pulled down his torn jeans in one swift move, Frank squeaked, loud and unrestrained. Maybe Frank was like this; the real Frank, wild, lively and awesome, literally awesome. Maybe he was like this before the apocalypse. Ray wished he had known him then. He would have loved him instantly.

Frank's cock was thick and veiny. Ray closed his fingers around it and started palming at it.

"Oh. Oh my God. God." Frank threw his head back and thrust into Ray's hand, grabbing Ray's shoulder to anchor himself.

Ray stroke faster, until Frank screamed, high pitched and dug his fingernails in the nape of Ray's neck.

"Fuck. Yeah," he garbled and then he was pulling Ray's cock in his hand and jerking him so fast that Ray saw stars, explosions of colors in his peripheral vision.

Frank came first. He spilled into Ray's palm with a loud cry, mumbling things into Ray's neck, his teeth scraping at Ray's skin.

There was something perfect about this moment. It was like everything bad that ever happened was gone, erased into oblivion, from the second Frank shouted and went limp in Ray's arms to the second Ray's toes curled in his boots.

Then Ray was following Frank over the edge, and he was coming in thick spurts all over Frank's stomach, on the hem of his t-shirt and on Frank's inked fingers, the letters on his knuckle obliterated by spunk.

They didn't move for the longest time, Frank's compact frame nested in Ray's arms, covered in sweat and come, Ray's legs wobbly and his heart pounding so hard in his chest that it almost sounded like a bass drum, thudding too fast.

Frank planted idle kisses on Ray's shoulder blade and stroked Ray's sides through his t-shirt.

The sleeping bag was still unrolled on the floor and Ray took Frank there, wrapping an arm around his waist and dragging him back to the middle of the kitchen.

Ray tucked his cock back in his pants and slipped inside their makeshift bed, pressing himself against Frank as close as he physically could without melting into him. He tangled his legs around Frank's and dragged his fingers across Frank's chest, twisted them in his damp t-shirt.

"We don't have to run tonight," Frank muttered.

"No. We don't," Ray replied, his lips smearing over Frank's neck and the tattoo etched there.

And for the first time in weeks, Ray stopped worrying about the future. He stopped running.


End file.
